Indefensible
by Coragyps
Summary: While on the road to Nagasaki, Fuu runs into trouble yet again. This time the guys don't quite manage to save her - or at least not right away.
1. Chapter 1

**Indefensible**

_The author does not own any aspect Samurai Champloo and is making no profit from this work of fanfiction._

"Now where's that dumb brat," grumbled Mugen, rounding a corner with his sword slung over one shoulder. He and Jin had taken out a whole band of the Shogunate's men all by themselves, while Fuu had wisely ducked into the shelter of a nearby house. So now while Jin dealt with the ugly aftermath it was up to Mugen, as usual, to retrieve Fuu so they could get on the road before anyone organized retaliation.

"Oy! Girlie!" He cast a long glance down the alleyway behind the houses and almost didn't see the dark shape hidden under the eaves of a roof. "Let's go, already," he sniped, approaching her, then jerked to a stop.

Fuu was sitting with her back to the wall, the deadweight of a soldier sprawled over her legs. The man was half-twisted on his back and his face was turned towards Mugen, grotesquely blank. Following the trail of blood down his chin and neck, Mugen's eyes were drawn to the battered handle of Fuu's tanto sticking out from between his ribs. "Shit," said Mugen, with feeling.

Fuu's head was slumped down on her chest and at his exclamation she looked up slowly. Her eyes were huge in her face, the pupils tiny, her skin as white as the corpse's. And he was dead alright; Mugen had seen a lot of dead guys and this was definitely one of them. "Shit," said Mugen again. He approached, grabbing the body by the back of the shirt and hauling him off of Fuu, pointing the gory end down and away. A heavy sword fell with a clang as the soldier's arms dropped down to hang limply, trailing in the dust. "Get up," he grunted to Fuu. "We gotta go." No answer.

He pushed the corpse into the shadows of the alley and kicked it over, then reached with his free hand to pull the tanto out of the man's chest. It came loose with a wet sucking sound, and he heard Fuu gasp tremulously. It had been a lucky strike, the blade at an awkward angle as she struck up wildly from her short height. It had slipped between the lower ribs and into the heart. Mugen knew how quickly a man could go if you cut him in the right place. "Brat," he snapped again, "get up. You hurt or something? Deaf maybe?" Dropping the corpse face-down where he stood, he turned back. She _was_ hurt, at least a little; he could see a dark line of blood staining the collar of her kimono that probably hadn't come from the corpse, and a swollen red splotch on her face that was going to turn into a bruise. There were also rusty splatters of blood, not hers, all down her lap and leading to the huge stain already soaking into the dusty ground.

"I said get up," he ordered, grabbing her by the arm and hauling her to her feet, away from the gore. She didn't struggle as he started dragging her back around the corner, her tanto tucked into his belt and his own sword in his other hand. The soldier's blade lay forlorn in the dirt next to the puddle of quickly-drying blood.

"Mugen, what's taking so long?" Jin looked completely unruffled by the vicious battle they had just fought, his face composed and slightly annoyed. "We should leave this village at once."

"Coming," said Mugen, still gripping Fuu's arm and using it to make her keep up. He could feel her trembling and her skin was cold to the touch.

"There was another soldier," Jin observed. "Did he manage to escape?"

"Nope," said Mugen grimly. "Girlie here took 'im out."

"I see," said Jin. If he was surprised by this revelation, he certainly didn't show it. His eyes went to Fuu, still following mutely after Mugen. "Are you alright, Fuu-chan?"

Fuu came to a stop and her knees seemed to buckle, so that only Mugen's bruising grip on her wrist kept her upright. Finally she twisted out of his grasp, stumbled the few steps to Jin and threw herself against his body. "I killed him!" she managed to say, before bursting into tears.

Jin was caught off-guard for a second but quickly recovered his presence of mind. "There, there," he murmured, drawing his arm around her comfortingly. Fuu's violent sobbing was muffled in his juban, her little fists clutching the fabric.

"Jeez." Mugen watched uncomfortably, sticking his little finger in his ear to clean it.

"We need to leave," Jin repeated to Mugen, "before the Shogunate has a chance to regroup." He bent slightly to slide an arm behind Fuu's knees and lifted her up, her face still buried in his shoulder. She was almost quiet now, except for tremulous, quivering sobs interspersed with hiccupping breaths. "Let's go, Mugen."

_Continued . . ._


	2. Chapter 2

They followed the main road out of the village, Jin carrying Fuu on his back with Mugen trailing behind. It was strangely silent without Fuu's perpetual complaints of hunger. Jin thought that she might have fallen asleep. Mugen seemed to be sulking, so he passed the time meditating while they walked. The sun was already setting as they passed the scattered houses and farms on the outskirts of town; nobody was in the fields, and they passed no one on the roads. The sky in the west turned rosy, then brilliant orange, before the sun was finally extinguished. Night fell around them as they entered the forest, and the trail followed the course of a river through the deep purple shadows. The only sound, besides the rustling of the trees and the distant running water, was the tip of Mugen's blade as it dragged in the dirt.

"This should be far enough for tonight," Jin remarked. He led them away from the path and through the underbrush until they came to a hollow surrounded by trees, with a clearing large enough for the three of them to make camp. "Get out a mat," he instructed Mugen, shifting Fuu a little higher.

Usually Mugen complained when Jin ordered him about, but today he just grunted and reached for the pack over his shoulder. When one of their thin bamboo mats was spread out on the grass, Jin knelt down to settle Fuu onto it. She curled into a ball, turning her face away from them and burrowing into her kimono.

"I'm starving," said Mugen. "Gonna go see if I can find any fish in that stream."

"Fine," said Jin. He began to gather kindling to make a fire, stacking it in a neat pile in the center of the clearing. By the time he struck his flint Mugen was returning with a few large trout and a cocky smirk. Jin allowed his lips to form a little frown. It was ridiculous that he couldn't catch fish himself.

"Stay with her," he instructed, standing and brushing off the front of his robes. The fire jumped quickly from twig to twig, then ate steadily away at one of the bigger branches. "I'm going to the river to wash."

Mugen scowled after his taciturn companion as he disappeared among the trees. Then his gaze fell on the huddled form of Fuu. "Oy, brat, wake up," said Mugen, prodding her with one metal-tipped geta. "We got food, I know you ain't gonna pass that up."

On second thought, Mugen realized, he probably should have let her sleep. Fuu opened her eyes and took in the limp, slimy fish on the end of a hook, inches away from her face. She flashed back to the soldier's expression in those last seconds, the terrible surprise that quickly slackened into the looseness of empty flesh. It had happened so fast, she had hardly even meant to stab him, and then the blood was spouting from his mouth, from the hole she had dug in his chest, and he was dead before she had really realized what had happened.

She scrambled backwards, crawling on hands and knees to the bushes on the edge of the clearing. Once she started throwing up she couldn't stop, heaving and spattering into the undergrowth, and it made her think of the blood that he had choked on, and that made her heave harder. She needed to be empty, she couldn't stop until there was nothing left in her stomach, and then she sank back on her knees, shaking, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Mugen swore softly under his breath, wishing he were someplace else. He paused to stake the fish onto skewers and set them over the fire, then reached for a skein a water. He approached her cautiously. She was wiping her runny nose on the sleeve of her kimono, not meeting his eyes. "Uh, here," he muttered, holding out the skein, but she made no move to take it from him. "Take it!" Finally, he tossed it at her and it rolled into the grass.

"I'm sorry," she said in a little voice, biting her lip. Tears were still welling in her big doe eyes.

Mugen was looking around desperately for Jin. Jin was better at these kinds of things, he could be gentle and consoling, but Mugen didn't know how to be anything but rough. He didn't have a clue what to do with this pathetic squishy Fuu, he liked bossy, loudmouth Fuu, the one that hit him with her shoe when he pissed her off.

"Eh, c'mon," he said finally. "I'm goin' back to the fire, unless you want to freeze." She gave a shuddering sort of sigh and regained her footing, her stomach still clenching as she stood. Wordlessly she followed him back to where the fish were cooking, now thankfully blackened and dry, not freshly dead. She watched as Mugen turned them carefully on their little stakes, cooking each side evenly. "There's only two," he grunted. "Guess someone's gotta share, and it ain't gonna be me cuz I'm the one that caught em."

"I'm not hungry," said Fuu softly.

Mugen gave a bark of laughter. "That's a first."

"Yeah, I guess so." Fuu pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around herself. Her skin was clammy and cold. Who was that man, she wondered. They had just left him there for anyone to find. Did he have a wife somewhere? Was there a little girl who was waiting for him to come home? Maybe she would wonder why her father left her, wonder if she hadn't been good enough for him, maybe she would always wonder where he was . . . she began to shiver, even in the heat of the fire, and then her tears slipped out fast and thick, blinding her. She couldn't draw breath enough to cry as hard as she wanted to.

"Ah, jeez," said Mugen, noticing, his attention divided between the fast-cooking fish and the soggy mess sitting next to him. "Look, you can have a whole one, okay? Alright? Just cut that shit out. Kay?" The fish were starting to burn, he had to get them off the fire; he scorched his fingers pulling one out of the flames and almost dropped the whole thing in the dirt. Cursing savagely he managed to get them both onto a flat rock and turned helplessly back to Fuu. He gripped her shoulder with one hand and shook her, hard, until her head flopped back and forth on her limp neck, hoping that would make her stop. Instead she curled into his body, seeking his warmth, or maybe just to escape the shaking.

Mugen felt like he was suffocating when her wet face pressed into his neck, her arms latching tight around him, trying to fit her whole self into his lap. "Shit, shit, shit," he muttered, half-recoiling, half struggling to keep still.

There was a shuffling in the bushes; Mugen lurched to his feet with Fuu still clinging to him as Jin returned from the river. "Thank God," he said, staggering towards the ronin. "You gotta take her, she's gone nuts."

Jin walked towards them, unperturbed at the sight of Mugen's panicked face and the little shape of Fuu wrapped around him like a vine. "Give her to me," he instructed patiently, holding out his arms. "Is dinner ready?"

Fuu was too upset to know who was holding her, but she knew when a strong set of arms wrapped around her tightly and set her in the safety of a warm lap. Jin was faintly damp from washing up and smelled like the night, crisp and clean. She let him rearrange her limbs more comfortably, shifting her weight into a better position for him to eat, resting her head against his chest. She could hear him chewing, feel him swallow. Mugen was eating too, she knew, and there would be no fish for her, but she didn't care. Jin took a long drink from the skein, his free arm tightening around her shoulders. "You know, Fuu-chan," he remarked, "I was not much older than you are when I first killed a man."

Fuu stiffened, but when he resumed drinking, she found herself relaxing again. "R-really?"

"Well, no. I was younger than you are by some years. However, I believe the experience is the same."

"I didn't really mean to do it," she sniffled. "It all happened really fast."

"I'm sure it did. But that is the way of a battle, you know. It is you or your opponent, that is all. In this case, it is preferable that you would be the one to walk away."

"But maybe he wasn't such a bad guy," said Fuu, pathetically. "Maybe he didn't want to hurt me, maybe he was just going to talk to me or – something." This sounded unlikely even to her own ears.

"Ah." She was pretty sure she heard Mugen snort. "The choice to attack was his," said Jin, in his quiet voice. "Therefore, it was not your fault." He sounded so reasonable that Fuu could almost forget the stickiness of the blood that had spewed from the dead man's corpse, the feel of his heavy weight as he fell against her, taking her down with him, trapping her under him. She could almost forget the force it had taken to thrust in the tanto, almost before she'd realized what she'd done, and the texture of the flesh as the blade cut through it. Just like sushi, she thought. She would never eat it again.

"It was terrible."

"You did what you had to do, there is no shame in that."

"Law of the wild, kid," came Mugen's brash voice from the other side of the fire. "Kill or be killed."

"But I don't want to kill anybody," said Fuu desperately, burrowing her face deeper into Jin's juban. His hand came up to cradle the back of her head, gently, fingers sliding through her tangled hair. Even though she was really upset, she couldn't help luxuriating in the feeling of being touched like this, being held; she had hardly ever been comforted since her mother died, hardly even touched at all, except roughly or in anger. In all of their travels she had never been able to get so close to Jin – or even Mugen, as awkward as their contact had been – as she had tonight.

"That is enough, now, Fuu. You will not have to fight again. After all, that is why we are here." Jin looked across the fire at Mugen and their eyes met, communicating wordlessly; they had failed her today, left her alone with that man who had hurt her, and she had lost a little piece of herself as a result. They would give anything to keep her from ever loosing another one.

Mugen looked away first, picking his teeth with a fish bone. "Yeah," he said carelessly, "we'll do the killing around here, we're real good at that." He stood up and stretched, scratching his back. There was something annoying about seeing Fuu in Jin's lap, even though he had been completely uncomfortable holding her himself. It bothered him that Jin knew what to do to calm her down, make her quiet, when he hadn't been able to do it. It didn't sit right with him. Stupid Four-Eyes shouldn't be able to do _anything_ better than him. Now Jin was examining the wound on Fuu's shoulder, loosening her kimono to slide the collar down, and she was letting him do it. The sight of her bare little shoulder made something tighten in Mugen's gut; it was so fucking_ white. _When Jin pulled away the pink fabric he could see a long shallow cut made by the point of a sword. That bastard had hurt her. He wished Fuu hadn't killed him because he wanted to do it himself.

Jin looked up and caught the intensity of Mugen's glare. He straightened Fuu's kimono, covering her up again. The cut was not deep and had already mostly clotted, although it still bled sluggishly at the very bottom, as though the soldier had pressed harder as he went down. Had he meant to stab her? If so, he had been rudely interrupted. "You will be fine in a few days," he said aloud, more for Mugen's sake than for Fuu's; the girl was tired after the day's trauma and was half-asleep again. From the other side of the fire he heard the pirate grunt.

When he looked at Mugen he could see a longing that was half-wild and painful to witness; something like a stray dog looking at a comfortable home. But there was no comfortable hearth waiting for either of them. Fuu made a soft sound, like a coo, her face mostly covered by her sleeve. She was pressing uncomfortably on his bladder and he debated. "Mugen. Come here."

Doubtfully, Mugen wandered over. "Yeah, whaddya want?"

"Help me for a moment." He extended Fuu in his arms and the other man instinctively backed up.

"Hell, no."

"Just take her for a moment. She is sleeping."

"Aw, man . . ." Mugen's face was screwed up like he was being offered something poisonous. "I don't –"

"Here." Jin reached to take his wrist, half-expecting the other man to pull away, but he allowed his arm to be guided to Fuu's shoulder. Jin shifted off of the rock he was sitting on and traded places with Mugen. Fuu whimpered a little as she was transferred into Mugen's arms, in part because he held her so loosely and reluctantly.

Jin disappeared into the bushes and relieved himself. When he was finished he stood for some time starting at the clear sky; the stars stared back, unrevealing, blank. They were beautiful, but they had no answers for him, not about himself, not about his companions.

When he returned Mugen was still sitting rigidly and fidgeting a little, with Fuu resting between his legs. Jin laid out the sleeping mats close to the fire – the night air was chilly – then kneeled in front of Mugen and Fuu, frowning at the bruise that was visible in the firelight on her up-turned face. "I guess he hit her," said Mugen.

"And grabbed her," Jin agreed, indicating her wrist, which was plainly marked with the prints of five fingers.

Mugen scowled. "Actually," he admitted, "I think that was me."

"Hn."

Fuu seemed to be uncomfortable in her current spot, because she kept shifting position, making little sounds like a kicked puppy. Her face wound up pressed into Mugen's thigh and the pirate cast a baleful eye at Jin, promising death if he made any comment. "C'mon, girlie, I ain't your pillow," he snarled, poking her. She flinched away from his finger and kept squirming in his lap. "Quit it," he told her gruffly. "Quit."

Jin looked at them for a moment. "Perhaps if you hold her firmly," he suggested, "it would make her feel more secure."

Mugen's cheeks darkened at the implication that he didn't know how to hold a woman. He was _great_ at holding women, while he banged 'em. It wasn't his fault that this was different. His hands, so skilled with a sword, were too big and awkward to handle Fuu's little frame.

"Here," said Jin, coming forward. Mugen hissed as the ronin guided his hand to the back of Fuu's head, pressing down until he held her against his shoulder. He meant to pull away and start hollering, but somehow, he didn't. Soon she was tucked a little more closely into the curve of Mugen's body and immediately fell silent, nuzzling into his chest. "Relax," said Jin quietly. "Bring her over here by the fire, before she gets cold."

Mugen followed directions like a sleepwalker, standing with Fuu in his arms and carrying her over to the mat. He sank down carefully and Fuu slept on like a rock. He was pretty sure she was drooling on him, the little brat. He could hear Jin moving silently around them, banking down the fire, packing up their supplies. Usually Mugen did that, but right now his arms were full. That was why he didn't protest when Jin came up with a scratchy wool blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders, tucking it up to Fuu's chin. This close to the embers Mugen could see the dried tear tracks on her face and the puffiness of her eyes from crying. So even though he wanted to pull away from Jin's pale, steady hands as they settled the blanket over him, it was for Fuu, so he accepted it.

"We are all tired. We should get some sleep." It sounded suspiciously like Jin was bossing him around again. Mugen managed a glare that turned into a yawn as the ronin laid himself out on the mat next to him. Then there was silence in the clearing. A few lightning bugs drifted by. Mugen was drowsy and warm with the heat of both of them next to him.

His last thought, before drifting off to sleep, was that in the morning, Fuu would soak the stains out of her kimono in the river. She would whine that she was hungry and it would be his job to find something to shut her up. She would try to play up her injuries to make them feel sorry for her, and they would both ignore her, because that is what they do. She would forget what had happened, because she could wash off the blood and be just as white underneath as before. For him, for Jin, it wasn't true; they were soiled all the way through. But at least for a moment, with Fuu drooling next to him and the ronin's whistling snore ringing in his ears, Mugen wondered if he couldn't maybe feel something starting to come clean.

Finish.

_You can review if you like, but don't feel obligated to do so. Thanks for reading!_ -- Cora

Thanks to Schweinsty and Tawnybmw for pointing out a rather stupid spelling mistake . . . whoops.


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